I carry a journal in my purse. I adapted the notebook idea from the Natalie Goldberg classic Writing Down the Bones. Goldberg would buy bags based on how well they can carry her notebooks, and I even tried to emulate filling a notebook a month.
That’s still in progress.
I finished my black moleskin during Christmas break then got out this purple number. I got it on sale at Chapters with its slide closure an eye-catching feature. The first entry involved a conversation overheard at a Starbucks between a recently engaged couple. How do I know? The bride-to-be, a young woman, looking no more than 28, asked her groom-to-be, also the same age, if he wanted to start with engagement photo plans, venues, or the guest list.
The guest list won.
I scribbled in the new journal, sipping my white chocolate mocha, and still beaming about getting the acceptance email into the Winnipeg Public Library Writer’s Circle. I saw the email after I pulled out my phone to take pictures of some seriously blinged-out Starbucks cups:
I mean serious with a serious price tag:
My yelp came out a squeak as I waited for my drink. Maybe I can write a short story about blinged-out Starbucks cups in some rom-com Winnipeg novel. Rom-com and Winnipeg, two things not normally going together.